“How so?”
“He ruined him. I don’t know the hows and I don’t want to know.” She shot me a pained look. “You know how people say karma will get you . . . well, if you treat me badly, Killian is the karma that gets you.”
An ache streaked across my chest, so deep that I lifted my good hand to soothe it away. It was jealousy, I realized, shocked. What must it be like to have someone care about you that fiercely? To have someone like O’Dea, who was cold with everyone else, treat you like you were all that mattered?
Once upon a time, my mom had been that person. My fierce protector.
I closed my eyes tight. She kept invading my thoughts, breaking through.
“Talk about something else,” I insisted, needing a distraction. “Anything.”
“Oh.” Autumn’s brows pinched together in worry, but she said, “I saw these amazing Kurt Geiger platforms for you. Do you wear heels?”
My smile was grim but relieved. “How high are they?”
“WELL?” AUTUMN ASKED.
She’d driven me back to the apartment and insisted on waiting for O’Dea to come over so she could see his reaction to my transformation.
If I wasn’t mistaken, he’d stumbled a little when he first saw me as he walked into the living area of the apartment, so I know the haircut took him by surprise. Good surprise or bad surprise, I didn’t know, because he’d immediately started making himself a coffee with only a casual “hello” thrown our way.
Autumn stood in the middle of the sitting room with her arms crossed over her chest, watching him impatiently as he moved around the kitchen. I sat on the sofa, not acknowledging the flare of agitation I felt at his lack of response. I stared out at the river, pretending I couldn’t care less what he thought.
And I couldn’t care less!
He was an ass.
“Well what?” he asked, coming around the island with his coffee.
His sister gestured at me. “Skylar’s hair.”
“It’s fine.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Fine?”
O’Dea expelled one of his exasperated sighs. “Autumn, Skylar and I have work to do.”
She glared at him. “Fine.”
The glare melted from her face, softening to a sweet smile as she bent down to press a kiss to my temple.
The affectionate gesture startled me and I couldn’t help but smile at her in return. “I’ll see you later. Call me if you need anything?”
“Call you how?” O’Dea stepped forward with a scowl.
“I gave her a phone, big brother.” She kissed his cheek. “Brenna wants to check in with her, and it might be good for Skylar to start checking in with the world again.”
She’d suggested I ease myself into googling the band members so I wouldn’t be caught unawares later. But the thought made my stomach clench. Moreover, I didn’t want to tell her because the phone was thoughtful, but the idea of being reachable, being “tagged” by a cell phone again made me squirm.
“And did you check if Skylar was ready for a phone?” O’Dea asked, surprising me with the considerate thought.
“If Skylar is ready? Or if you’re ready for Skylar to have the independence of a phone?”
“Skylar is sitting right here,” I muttered.
O’Dea heard me. “Do you want a phone?”
I shrugged, still not wanting to hurt Autumn’s feelings.
“She doesn’t want a phone,” he surmised. “Give me the phone.”
“Killian,” Autumn huffed. “She’s right. You’re being controlling.”
“I’m not. Skylar doesn’t want the phone.”
“Skylar?”
I gave her a regretful shake of my head. “I’m not ready for the cell. Sorry.”
“Why didn’t you say something?”
“Because it was sweet of you. I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”
“You should be honored, Autumn,” O’Dea said. “She doesn’t care if she hurts my feelings.”
I smirked. “That’s because you have none.”
We stared at each other, as if daring the other to look away.
“Okay.” Laughter trembled in Autumn’s voice. “I’m going to go. Skylar, give the phone to Killian. He paid for it anyway.” And then she was striding out, her heels clacking down the hallway. “Ooh, Killian, you brought your Taylor! Have fun!”
And then the door slammed shut.
Expression quizzical, I sat up. “Your Taylor?”
He threw back the rest of his coffee, putting the mug down on the counter. Without meeting my eyes, he turned away to walk down the hall. “You can’t play,” he called out, “but I can. And we have an album to write.”
When he returned, he had a guitar case in hand. He put it up on the island and opened it. I stood to get a better look, my fingers itching to play it, but instead of taking out the guitar, O’Dea pulled out papers.
“The contract.” He handed it over to me. “I canceled the makeup artist since Autumn took care of that.” He indicated my face. “I’ve set up interviews with a few managers in the morning.” He held out a small folder for me to take. “All three are in there. Their credentials, everything. Talk to them. Get a feel for them. Make a decision. Once that’s done, you hand the chosen one that.” He tapped the top of the contract. “He or she will make sure you’re taken care of before you sign it.”
“I know how it works.” I dropped the papers on the counter by the guitar. “So, I’m just supposed to pick a manager in one day?”
“No, I’ll give you the weekend to think about it.”
How was I supposed to do this? Gayle had been my manager since I was sixteen years old. I trusted her. “Magnanimous of you.”
“I’d prefer it if we could get through the day without the sarcasm.”
I stared incredulously as he pulled a Taylor Dreadnought out of its case. Okay, he had great taste in guitars. So what? “Since when do label execs write albums?” The answer was never. “Don’t you have a producer who could work with me?”
“I used to be a music producer at the label.” He strolled over to the sofa with the guitar.
A producer before he was an exec? He didn’t seem old enough to have accumulated all that experience. “How old are you?” I sat down on the chair across from him.
“Thirty.”
Six years older than me. He’d packed in a lot in a short time. “If you’ve been an A&R executive for five years, then you were a pretty young producer.”
“I haven’t been an A&R executive for five years.”
I frowned. “But Autumn said you’ve brought in a lot of successful new artists in the last five years.”
“I have. As a producer. I worked for Skyscraper and several other labels, depending on who the artist was. But my goal has always been A&R at Skyscraper. I got that job eighteen months ago.” There was a bitter note to his tone and it reminded me of what Autumn said about their uncle making Killian jump through hoops.
“Your uncle’s a bit of a hardass, huh?”
Surprise flared in his eyes for a second but was immediately flattened by understanding. “Autumn.”
“She told me about your uncle. That he’s the label head.”
“Aye.”
“And that he’s hard on you.”
O’Dea’s features grew taut with the subject. “He expects the best, that’s all. And so do I. Let’s get to work.”
Okay. Got it. Subject off-limits. “I’ll get my notebook.”
When I returned, he held his hand out for it.
“You’re joking, right?”
“Well, I’m assuming you’ve written the sheet music in there?”
“I have.” I’d also written really personal shit in there. “Point?”
“I’ll need it.” O’Dea gave me his intense, focused stare. “To play because you can’t.”
I flipped through the notebook until I found the sheet music to one of my unfinished songs. I ripped it out and handed it to him. “I’ve been working on this one.”
He nodded but looked less than pleased as I sat down with the notebook open, ready to write. “You ever going to trust me?”
“Doing this,” I gestured between us, “is trust.”
He didn’t respond but I guessed he was satisfied because he glanced at the paper, put it down, and strummed the guitar to tune it. My gaze followed the way his long, masculine fingers plucked at the strings and I felt a little flutter low in my belly.
It was a feeling I hadn’t felt in a long time.